Akting Out

In the aftermath of the breakup, I kept thinking (actually, I still think this); how the hell did I let this happen?! I’m smarter than this!
I mean, I walked right into it, didn’t I? Hadn’t there been a reason why I’d gotten out of that situation in the first place? Seriously, did I have a blonde moment or something?
This isn’t to say my ex isn’t a good person; contrarily, she’s a great person, we’re just not great together, never really have been. I figured that once our lives had settled down, maybe we’d be better for each other. I was wrong. I only wish she’d told me this before I spent all that time and money getting to Texas. When I think of how else I could’ve applied that money, I want to kick myself. But hey, such is life, right?

That is my gift; accurately gauging people and determining the outcome of most interactions. It’s not as accurate as it used to be (because I don’t spend as much time around people as I used too), but it’s still there. I’m passionate, but not emotional (unless we’re discussing anger). So I’m good at reading people, situations, and then figuring out the best outcome. It’s usually the one that gets the job done but leaves a lot of people pissed off.

But this…with Samantha, I wanted this so badly, and that’s where I made my mistake. I try to never want anything so badly that it blinds me. Or this kind of shit happens. And that’s what happened. I allowed myself to be blinded. I feel as though I’ve come a long way in the past four years; no current legal troubles, still have the same job, my writing career is skyrocketing (and plodding), and I have a beautiful place to call home. Sure, I still have anger issues, but I’ve become a lot better at dealing with them. Samantha was the only girl I ever came close to marrying, and in my opinion I hadn’t been worthy of that the first time around because I was such a mess. I figured my being able to be with her again, the epitome of a good girl, symbolized that I was indeed ready for marriage. Because that’s what I want, probably more than I’m comfortable admitting.

So I allowed myself to be blinded by desire and paid the price. At least my life isn’t boring; a friend of mine told me that during the drama of my breakup, she followed me right alongside the Casey Anthony trial.

I’d been trying to figure out the reasoning for why everything had happened since I came home. Here, finally sitting down, slowing down, and reflecting on everything, I think I’ve begun to understand.
I’ve always believed that God brought me to the Midwest so I could calm down. I likened it to exile; there’s very little to do here that I’m interested in, I don’t have a car or a license, so I’m all but restricted to my job and what I can get to by foot. I’ve never really felt an inclination to legally redeem myself until recently. I know I could’ve gotten myself out of legal trouble a long time ago with the money I make. I’ve just been lazy about it.

And yet, now, for some reason, I can’t get the idea of getting my driver’s license back out of my head. I’ve often toyed with the idea of moving back to a larger city (it was either Seattle or Austin), but again, only recently have I found the motivation. It’s as if something in the back of my head has gone off, saying; “Now.”
I don’t get into trouble anymore, hell, I’m almost thirty-five years old. I have had the same job for more than to years, despite my issues with it. I’ve learned to buckle down and bear it. I think, I hope, that I have learned what I needed to learn…and now it’s time to go home.

There is an IGDA chapter in Seattle. It’s much closer to my kids. It’s the west coast. It’s consistently ranked as one of the best cities to live in the United States. Their newspaper actually has a business/technology section. I haven’t seen that in years. There are jobs. The cost of living is a little bit higher, but if I’m meant to be there, then He’ll provide a way for me to do it.

So that’s what I’ve come too; a feeling that closure is near, that it’s about time for me to head back to the culture I know best. Just a little bit more work, and I can go home.

The goal is may of next year, right around the three-year mark with CenturyLink. I already know it’s going to be difficult. Life is difficult. Make it a game. Have fun with it. You only get to play once.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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Me: “I’d love to fly one day. Actually break free of Earth’s gravity under my own power and just take off.”

Sam: “We should jump out of a plane someday.”

I’m not a religious person; more of a spiritual one. I believe in karma almost as strongly as I believe in God; every last thing we do, in this life, or the next one, we will answer for. I know this as surely as I’m writing this blog.

I figured that part of my karma was watching people all around me settle down in permanent relationships. I’ve always thought it was the most awesome thing in the world; to have someone know all of the worst things about you, and love you anyway.

Samantha once told me that she loved me because of my faults; they made me who I am.

And then I’m reminded; almost nothing is unforgivable, and everyone deserves a second chance. We just have to earn it.

Samantha and I met six years ago; despite being, well, whatever I was, with no fixed address, I still thought I had what it took to be a husband and father. Anyway, we were states apart when we met by chance, but that first conversation we had was epic; we chatted for nearly four hours (which is funny, because I can’t talk to anyone for four hours) about everything ranging from our favorite football teams (she’s a diehard Packers fan) to our unifying faith in God. A deeply religious good-girl with a wild streak and weakness for bad boys, Samantha had a smile that was visible from across the world and eyes that see straight through you. Those eyes scared the hell out of me, back then; all of those walls I had spent years building up had come crashing down in a single day.

Keeping Sam at a distance wasn’t as easy as I made it out to be, even across the country. Nothing about me frightened her; I told her the worst thing I had ever done in my life and she didn’t even blink. I wanted to scream at her; CAN’T YOU SEE HOW BROKEN I AM?! RUN! GET AWAY! GET AWAY NOW!
But she didn’t. No matter what I said, no matter what I did…she was right there, never further than an email or phone call away. I honestly think that was the first time in my life I had known complete and total acceptance from the opposite sex. Yeah, I had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Although we didn’t become a couple for years, we managed to stay friends. Finally, three years ago, unable to stay in Michigan without getting arrested and having burned everyone I was close too, we finally met.
The first night we met, she cooked for me; sour cream chicken. We stared up at the stars and asked each other what we wanted out of life.
And although the circumstances were all wrong back then, we decided to give being a couple a shot.

Things were not all bad, nor entirely our fault; Samantha has a beautiful daughter I quickly bonded with, and she spoke to my kids over the phone. But the beginning of our relationship marked my going straight; I had no idea how difficult the adjustment would be. Plus, the rug was yanked from under her after her family fell apart and her mother, decided to leave the state. I was working overnights, she was working during the day, we barely saw each other on the weekends, and when we did, we usually took the chaos of our lives out on each other. But our fights were never hateful; we never called each other any names…just two very intelligent, very passionate people with similar beliefs and different pathways battling it out.

Still, the good times were awesome, although I couldn’t see it back then. Sam’s humor was very G-rated (I likened it to Disney) and it used to grate on me. She could meet someone once and years later, they’d still remember her. I didn’t like it because I wished I could connect with people like she did. I rode the emotional roller-coaster harder with her than anyone else, even becoming engaged for a moment.

She was the only woman I ever came that close to marrying.

Still, in the end, with us unable to come to any common ground, we reluctantly called it quits.
And then, something amazing happened; we got ourselves together.
She moved to Texas, continuing to raise her daughter and pursue the same dream she’s been after as long as I’ve known her. She lost weight. Her confidence went through the roof. She gained the ability to see the world through other’s eyes.

And me, well, I (somewhat) got over myself.
Put all the anger away. Made peace with my family. Saw my kids. Began resolving my diabetes. Figured out what I wanted to do in life. Even *gasp* maintained employment at the same job for more than two years.
When my last relationship collapsed (which was more my fault than I’d like to admit), I reached out to Sam, just to see what was up; I hadn’t talked to her in over a year.

Occasional conversations turned into an every-night thing (Skype rocks) as we filled each other in the happenings of our lives. To be completely honest, it didn’t take long for old feelings to reach the surface again. So when she made plans to come up here to visit old friends, I offered to let her stay at my place. The rest is history.

Samantha is crazy and she’ll be the first person to tell you that. She’s stubborn, hard-headed, a little too intelligent for her own good, extremely driven with an unshakable faith in God that guides everything she does. Plus, she doesn’t realize it yet, but she really doesn’t believe in fear or excuses. And don’t ever, ever lie to her. Trust me on this, please?

I honestly didn’t think I’d ever get a second chance with this woman; after everything, I didn’t think I deserved one. And with us living, once again, states apart, nothing is guaranteed and we both know that. We also both believe in earning what you want, so I look at it as God throwing down the gauntlet and asking me; “How badly do you want this?”

I’m not self-destructing this time. I’m not falling back into the same patterns that cost me everyone else. So here’s hoping.

And for now, I’m glad I got a second chance at The One That Got Away. J

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I look at life as an adventurous learning journey, that begins the moment we first open our eyes and ends the day we close them forever. I’ve never believed life was meant to be suffered through. Sure, things get hard from time to time, but I think we experience hard times not only to better appreciate easy ones, but also so we can emerge stronger for the experience on the other side. As we get older, learn more, the trials get harder, and the test becomes to survive the trial without sacrificing who you are. You refine who you are, over and over, until you become satisfied with the person you are and how you fit into the world.

I think I’ve made almost every mistake someone my age can make. I fought with my parents as a child, even cut them out of my life for a little while. I was away from my children for seven years. I’ve been arrested more times than I can count, I’ve destroyed marriages, I solved my problems violently, and I’ve pushed away people who tried to love me. I have screwed up a lot in my life.

I like to think I’ve learned from all of my mistakes, though. I managed to re-build a relationship with my parents and children (I keep photos of them on my desk at work), I haven’t been arrested in two years, I avoid fighting (but the desire is still there), and I’m working, very slowly, on coming out of my shell. I’ve even learned to stop working from places of resentment and animosity, to working from love and happiness. Instead of doing my job because I believe I’m too good to be fired, I do it because I love the people I work with and the numerous things I learn every day. I do it because it fuels my dreams.

I say this to say that if I can come back from the bottom, utter destitution with only the clothes on my back to two successful careers, than anyone can.

I also believe one of life’s little perks is the ability to pass on what we’ve learned to willing listeners, and this is one of my favorite parts of this game we play every day. I love to listen to different perspectives on life, different experiences, and random conversations. Doing this has allowed me to become friends with people from all walks of life; geeks, jocks, mechanics, martial artists, fighters, writers, salespeople, teachers…human beings playing the game.

Life is a beautiful, wondrous gift that we are given a very short time to enjoy. Life As I Play It is about filling my life with as many diverse experiences as I can, laughing every day, and passing on what I know to anyone who will listen. If I can learn something new, teach something new, and make someone smile, then I’ve done what I’m supposed to do.

That is Life As I Play It. Be Happy. Every day that you can be. Don’t sweat the little things because they’ll pass and you’ll be better for them. Learn from your mistakes, celebrate your victories, and never quit believing in yourself—even (especially) if you think no one does.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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For the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to beat back type-2 diabetes. Either that or I’ve been trying to kill myself. Until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure which.

When I first started, I quit junk food cold turkey and began a workout routine that would’ve given Clark Kent cramps. After a few months, it worked; I was taken off medication and given a clean bill of health. Of course, being my usual self-destructive self, I decided to celebrate by falling off the wagon. The result was dangerously high blood sugar levels that landed me in the emergency unit on two occasions.

On top of all that, I wasn’t getting much done on the writing front. I was up half an hour before I was to be at work, pausing only to shave and pack breakfast. I would eat a bowl of sweetened fruit for breakfast (at work), and drink about three gallons of coffee to get through the day. I would tell myself that I would accomplish whatever herculean task I had planned that night. The problem was, I was so wiped out by the time I came home that I would often promise myself that I would get to it “tomorrow”. Then, inevitably, the week would come to an end, all of those ‘tomorrows’ would catch up to me and I’d end up cursing myself every Friday for allowing myself to get buried in work. Sometimes I could dig myself out of it, others not, and I rarely wound up satisfied with the end result.

Then, I tried this ‘balance’ thing that everyone kept talking about.

A few weeks ago, I altered my routine. Nothing drastic, mind you, just a few changes here and there to accommodate the dual purpose of keeping my blood sugar in check and writing every day. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made; I accomplish about three thousand words a week, I stay on top of my social networking, and I haven’t registered a high blood sugar reading in almost three weeks. As an added bonus, my girlfriend doesn’t complain (as much) about me taking time away from her. To give her credit, she puts up with a lot. I’ve tried to ensure she knows I appreciate her sacrifice.

I thought I’d share my routine, since it works for me. If you take something from it or want to pass along advice, feel free.

7:00am-7:45am: Up; check blood sugar, light workout that includes pushups, situps, shadowboxing, and pilates, shave, prep breakfast. Automatic coffee maker makes life so much easier.

7:45am-9:00am: Breakfast; this has become my favorite part of the day, because this is when I do my best writing. Breakfast is Honey-Nut Cheerios, coffee with cinnamon, and a bowl of strawberries/blueberries. My writing goal is five hundred words a day and one completed chapter a week. So far, I’ve made that goal.

9:10am-9:30am: Walk to work. It’s about a mile, one block of which is an annoyingly and increasingly steep hill.

11:30am-11:45: Mid-morning snack, usually something sugary, I won’t lie. I also try to do ten laps around my office at break, and I owe the people I work with a hug for putting up with the consistent pacing. They’re all very much aware of it. This is critical; the ten laps I do reduce my blood sugar by maybe ten or fifteen points, which can make the difference between a high and normal reading.

1:30pm-2:30pm: Lunch (usually). It’s either a salad (lettuce, tomato, green onion, jalapenos, sliced chicken and roast beef, shredded sharp cheese, Italian seasoning, and ranch dressing), or, if I didn’t feel like making lunch, the Subway Club. Every so often I slip and get the Big Philly. Considering that the sandwich makes me woozy, I try to stay away from it. I also try to get in twenty laps here.

4:30pm-4:45pm: Final break, ten more laps.

I would like to point out that time ceases to move after the final break when you work in a call center.

6:30pm-6:45pm: The walk home.

I turn into a whirlwind when I get in, showering, making lunch, and doing the dishes by seven or so. I spend a little time on the phone with Molly and the kids, and then dedicate the night to research, twitter, and taking notes. It may not be a perfect system, but it works for me.

Thanks for reading.

Expect an update soon.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I first discovered this mindset while practicing. Bruce Lee spoke of it often; reaction without thought. Don’t think. Feel. It becomes instinct to respond to a certain situation in a certain way. I’ve been striving at this for years, only recently did I start to understand. A punch comes, you block. You don’t think about it, you just do it. Thought requires hesitation. Hesitation forfeits advantage.

This is why I learned to run (blindly) with my first instinct. Screw who gets hurt along the way. I’m right, you’re wrong, and at the end, when everything has been wrecked, you’ll see.

I wasn’t sure how to quantify it, but it was an unsettling peace, almost like the dark side of the force. I associated people with how they smelled. Once I had that scent, I could track them anywhere. it didn’t require thought to do this, only instincts. Raw emotions. Who needs logic?

I learned to communicate without words. I’ve always found that one learns much more by observing and listening than running off at the mouth. I still believe this.

Look at my eyes. Read my body language. What do you think is on my mind?

Pay attention to someone as they walk. Within seconds, you can tell how they feel about themselves—not just generally, but at that exact point in time. When they speak, do they make eye contact? Are they shifty in their movements? Or are they fluid, decisive, and confident?

Do they know how to handle themselves?

Before I left NYC, the guy who had shown me around (and waited on the embankment when that damn train went over me) had long maintained that he had no interest in martial arts, and he had no idea how to fight. It’s a good cover; sometimes, when it’s revealed that you can fight, people want to test you. They either want to prey on you, or use you to prey on others. So I don’t blame him for keeping his mouth shut.

But we were friends. And I knew.
He had already seen me fight, we had resolved the situation we had involved ourselves in. He knew what I could do, but more importantly, he knew I was trustworthy.

So randomly, before we leave the high-priced hotel, I threw a punch his way. Nothing serious; if it had connected, I would’ve gotten his attention, but not much else.

Instinctively, his hand shot out and grasped my wrist. The look in his eyes was priceless, as though he was at a holdup, and everyone had just realized his gun was empty.

We sparred fiercely for a moment, which became a great experience with a bona-fide Kung-Fu expert. We never said  a word the entire time. Words weren’t necessary.

Anyways…logic set in about a year ago. Everything got a little crazy then, trying to adapt to everything I knew versus everything I was learning. The real world is rough.

I notice that since I have gone straight, my reflexes have dulled. At first I thought it was age, as I’m still in pretty good shape.
Instead, I find myself asking why all the time. Why do I feel a need to injure this person? Why am I doing this? What purpose does this serve?

Is there another way?

My writing is something else, though. I’ve never tried at my writing, I just do it. It’s always been that way, even before I could fight.

In fact, now that I’m older, I have found that I create the characters and their backstories (with their input) and then they pretty much do their own thing. I find myself, after a few hours, with several thousand words written. Reviewing my work often leads me to raise an eyebrow and say, “Wow, didn’t see that coming.”

When I write, I’m not conscious of the time, other people, or even my environment. I feel as though some curse may be brought upon me if I dare to step away from the keyboard before finishing the story. I end up sprinting for the bathroom when I’m finished.

The same gift I had for fighting…it’s as though it’s passed into my writing. Or it’s always been there, and I’m just now harnessing it.

This is the life I strive for…to flow freely without conscious thought, to react in the most appropriate method for situation. When I write, I want the words to flow through me, without my trying to control them. If I feel a need to raise my hands, I want to have no doubts that I have exhausted all other options. And then, I want to react in the most humane way possible.

I want to feel. Everything.

I’ve spent enough time in the darkness, and I’m really enjoying the light.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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